Cathy Alter Friday!

Have you all read Virgin Territory: Stories from the Road to Womanhood by Washington D.C. based writer Cathy Alter?

If you haven't gotten around to reading this collection of first person accounts about important moments in the lives of women you have less than two weeks to do so before her next book arrives on the scene!

Cathy's new book is a hilarious memoir called "Up For Renewal, What magazines taught me about love, sex and starting over." Visit her website http://www.cathyalter.com/ for more information about the book and to read an excerpt.

If you happen to reside in the D.C. area you can even pop by the Barnes and Noble Bookstore on M Street in Georgetown on July 8th where Cathy will be reading and doing a little Q &A. If you are lucky, you might even have a chance to meet your friendly neighborhood Nervous Blogger that night too.

Because you will be so in love with both Virgin Territory and Up For Renewal, and you will have been so enthralled by Cathy's ease and hilarity when you saw her speak at B&N, you can tune in on July 10th to The Today Show on NBC where Cathy will be appearing live from New York in full color!

Take my word for it. Read it. Seriously. Do it.

Full Disclosure: Cathy is not only a wonderful writer and a really groovy person, she also teaches in my writing program at Hopkins. I'm guilty of bias--but I would never recommend a bad read!

A Giffords Flashback

From August of 2006 to August of 2007 I worked part-time scooping ice-cream in addition to my full-time job and my part-time graduate studies. I wrote this little ditty for my first course at Hopkins, and although really kind of rough-drafty, it still cracks me up. I thought I'd post here for everyone who has ever worked in food service. Maybe someday I'll revise it into a real piece. For now, its just kinda funnny.

“Thanks A Latte!”: Bitter Reflections on Working in Food Service

I always drop change in the tip jar at Starbucks even when I’m just picking up the Post or a small (tall) drip brew, even if the service isn’t particularly good. I don’t do this because I’m generous or because I have vast amounts of money to spend. I tip because I have a never-ending sense of camaraderie with all people in the food service industry because I have been there. Not just for one summer when I was saving for spring break, but during high school, during college, after college and again during graduate school. Now, 7 years after I excitedly interviewed for my first job at a Caribou Coffee, I have finally found a food service job that still makes me dirty, but doesn’t make me feel quite as sub-human as the others have.

At first, I was hesitant to think about scooping ice cream as a part time job at the age of 24, but I quickly realized that working for a local, privately owned ice cream shop would be a whole different world from the nightmare that was working at Caribou and Starbucks for so many years. It’s not these companies in particular, it’s the experience of working low-wage, thankless jobs for companies that neglect to celebrate any “Employee Appreciation” days. I’m not asking for a pointy, company-branded party hat either, maybe a “Hey, Employee #4325-g, you did a terrific job cleaning the espresso machine, but let’s make sure we remember to use the toothbrush for those hard-to-clean steaming wands next time.” Anything really. Because the truth is, behind the friendly, yet forced, smiles of these perky employees lurks a deep, dark disdain for all things food-service. I’ve outlined some of the frustrations I’ve had with these corporate giants for all folks who are past, current or future part-timers.


Chapter 1: "Wearing the Hat and the Apron: What I Use My College Degree For"


Ok. So this one isn’t just Starbucks. But it still sucks. Unfortunately there are some downsides to all service jobs. Wearing an ill-fitting baseball cap and a logo imprinted apron is mandatory for food service jobs. I have a theory that this is to demean all food service employees into subordination, but admittedly, I didn't mind the hat and apron combination until after I graduated college and returned to the work force as a full time barista. I spent hours complaining about the direction my life had taken, and my total inability to feel any pride in my job because of the Hat and Apron. Wearing an Apron to your job implies you are going to get dirty, or spill all over yourself. That in general, one should completely disregard any sort of vanity---it ain’t worth it. I spoke with one of my “colleagues” at Gifford’s Ice Cream about the issue at hand. Catherine McPhaul surprised me with her reaction to my loaded question about having pride in the Gifford’s uniform.


“You know, it’s not that bad.” I was suddenly afraid that I had created this stigma. But I thought again.

“Is that because you are in college and this is just a ‘part-time’ job?”

“Ohhhhh, definitely.” She laughed.


After this interaction, I was left feeling bad for myself, again. If I had more time I could explicate on these feelings on other aptly named chapters such as: "Mopping the Floor: Good Thing I Wasted 100,000 Dollars To Go To A Private College" and "Cleaning the Bathrooms: I Should Have Gone To A State School."


Chapter 2: "The Complexity of the Caramel Macchiato"


Let’s be honest. It’s hard to screw up a cup of ice cream, even if it does require hot fudge or sprinkles. Customer’s eyes light up with child-like joy when the scoop is bigger than expected or they see you carry their favorite flavor, but this is not so for coffee drinkers. I have experienced every complaint in the book: "It's too hot. It's not hot enough. I wanted skim milk. I can't taste the vanilla. This cappuccino isn't sweet. It tasted different last time." Oh, the complaints go on and on. I blame Starbucks for this trend to complicate simple things like coffee. The complex recipes are basically setting one up for failure. Whatever happened to a good ole cuppa joe? This need to complicate extends from drinks themselves to other areas, such as job titles, which I’ve detailed in the following chapter.


Chapter 3: “You’ve Been Promoted to Espresso Temperature Monitor!: Job Titles That Mean Nothing and Not Surprisingly, Fool No One.”


At my first job working for the Man, at a Caribou Coffee, there were three roles for the staff to fill during an average shift. The Barista, Register and Superglue. That’s right. The person who wasn’t making drinks or ringing drinks up was in charge of “holding the store together”. The “Superglue”?? Who came up with this term? The creation of the “Superglue” staff member is just one of the many ways giant corporate companies exaggerate the importance of the work of its employees without actually providing any benefits. Can one interview to be the Superglue? Can I put that on my résumé? Does the Superglue make more money than the other team members? It seems that the responsibility of “holding the whole store together” is greater than that of the Barista, or the person ringing up sales. When I was “promoted” to this position I expected a ceremony. I was once told, when I was in one of these fake positions, that if I “put in a little more effort” I would be ready for my ten-cent raise. (Corporate jobs do this to you). No----you keep your ten cents and I’ll keep my dignity, thanks. Caribou has this pseudo position, and Starbuck has “Partners” instead of “Low Level Employees.” At Gifford’s Ice Cream the title of the lowest level employees is “Scooper”. No frills there.


Chapter 4: "Junkies Don't Make Pleasant Customers: The Caffeine Addiction"


The cold hard truth of working in a coffee shop is that a good portion of your clientele is addicted to the product you are providing. These customers are just "not themselves" before they've ingested their daily morning caffeine and tend to be snappy and curt with their friendly coffee-shop-employees. The service provided is a "need" for some people, and they are entirely displeased with having to pay $2-$5 for their fix, especially when they are in a hurry to catch a train or get to work. When the typical commuter wearing a skirt and tennis shoes knocked down the door and rushed up to the counter, clutching desperately her Am-Ex, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, I fought back the automatic eye-roll as she barked her order at me. It made me wonder how she became this way—frustrated and irritable before she inhales caffeine in her blood. Does my green hat and stained apron automatically make caffeine-deprived people angry? Shouldn’t we caffeine dealers be treated as nobles? As the only people who are able to deliver to her the yummy tall-skim-vanilla-latte goodness? I’m just sayin’.


Part time work in the food service industry can be quite headache-inducing—but there are jobs out there that aren’t that bad. Here are a few helpful tips for surviving the inevitable food-service job.

Tip 1: Avoid working for the Man. Period.

Tip 2: Try to serve a food product that isn’t somehow connected to someone’s addictive personality, liquor and chili-cheese fries included.

Tip 3: Even if you are over the age of 16, the hat and apron can work for you—you just need to own it.


Just remember, you can always repay those ungrateful customers. (They’ll never know what’s in that half-caf-single-shot-not-so-hot-mocha-latte, as long as you hand it over with a smile.)

Frito Pie: It’s in the Bag

The Gods of early America swiped large, powerful hands over the desert of New Mexico, clearing it like spilled salt from a table, then handcrafted Santa Fe’s low adobe landscape at the foot of the Sangre de Cristo mountains from soft clay. The city is beautiful. At dusk in Santa Fe, the blinding sun sinks and blends the colors of the sky, sand and city into a fine pink. At the heart of the small city is the Plaza: a small benched filled park, flanked on all sides by shopping, food and drink. The Plaza is why people come to Santa Fe. The last weekend in October, Plaza restaurants like the famous Café Cantina, close their rooftop seating and feed indoor fireplaces. Reddish leaves fall from the Aspen trees to create crunchy puddles along the stone paths which wind through the Plaza. Visitors here speak in Polish and Japanese as often as Spanish and purchase cowboy hats, turquoise jewelry and landscape paintings from local artists to spruce up their urban lifestyles. Native American craftsmen sell one of-a-kind goods on the South side of the plaza, replacing each item with an identical replica minutes after each sale. Santa Fe sells the American Southwest as Memphis sells Elvis—noticeably cheap and mass-produced or surprisingly out of your price range.

Santa Fe, known as “The City Different,” is just that. This fourth largest city in New Mexico expresses a unique attitude and architecture. In recognition of its status as the oldest U.S. capital city, an ordinance in 1912 mandated all structures be built in the historic Pueblo style. About 70 miles from the ski-town of Taos, the city is surrounded by mountainous views. There are more art galleries than ATMs. Amidst the myriad shops, galleries, cafes and saloons of the historic Plaza is the Five & Dime, the most famous of the Plaza’s landmarks. Located between a jewelry store and a Häagen-Dazs on San Francisco Street, the Five & Dime is home of toy wooden guns and slingshots, tacky Santa Fe t-shirts, and the most heartburning of all afternoon snacks: the Frito Pie.

The Challenge: A two-ounce bag of Frito corn chips cut gingerly along its side. A large ladle of spicy, meaty chili riddled with beans, poured directly into the bag. Topped with heap of shredded cheddar cheese. Eaten with a plastic spork.
The Rules: Don’t put it down. Finish before the chips lose their crisp. Grab plenty of napkins.

At $4.58 with tax, this is a meal not to miss. The “pie” is spicy, so don’t forget a beverage. Choose any member of the Coca-Cola family, available from the fountain -- even Nestea and Barq’s root beer. If soda doesn’t suit you, check the front of the Five & Dime for a cooler of bottled beverages from Perrier and Gatorade to Starbucks bottled Frappachino. You can sit along the counter’s six bar stools, at one of three small square tables or take your mobile lunch back out to a bench on the Plaza for some mighty fine people watchin’.

According to the apron-clad women dishing out the Frito-chili-goodness, there is debate about whether or not it was invented here. Some say it was invented in Houston and made popular in the Woolworth’s that once stood here in the 1960’s. Others stand defiantly that its creator is a Woolworth’s employee named Teresa. Either way, the Five & Dime is proud. Before it became a Five & Dime, the store’s history goes back to the beginning of the Plaza, pictured on its walls in black and white photos of the storefront surrounded by rugged men on horses in 1866, approximately 100 years before the Frito Pie appeared behind its Coca-Cola branded snack bar counter.

The sign above the snack bar brags about the 30,000 Frito Pies served annually, but these folks serve up more than the famous snack. Visitors can also find dehydrated looking hot dogs spinning on heated wires in a glass case, burritos born frozen and warmed by microwave, and of course classic buttery popcorn and dangling, salted pretzels with a side of nacho cheese. No price on the menu surpasses $5.00, and a single or double scoop of ice cream always awaits you for dessert.

Santa Fe has more to offer than messy, spicy eating. You’ll enjoy the clear and crisp mountain air while you shop, and visit nationally acclaimed galleries, or hiking trails, but when you start to feel hunger coming on, remember the Five & Dime. None of your other options are as unique and delicious as the heart-attack-in-a-bag Frito Pie, and in the American Southwest, visitors are divided into two categories: those who have eaten the fabled Frito Pie, and those who haven’t lived.

Frida’s Stamp on Diversity

The United States postal service honored women long before other government agencies did. The first women Senator wasn't elected until 1932, but Martha Washington, wife of the First president of this great nation, graced a US postage stamp worth 1 1⁄2 cents in 1902, 100 years after her death. In fact, she was the second woman to have this honor—the first? Queen Isabella, the Sugar Mama who bought Chris Columbus’ three hour tour and subsequent discovery of America. She was featured on a stamp in the first year of commemorative stamps-1893.

Other women to be licked and sticked to envelopes in America's history? Clara Barton, Eleanor Roosevelt, Harriet Tubman, Susan B. Anthony, and Frida Kahlo.
Wait. Frida Kahlo? Who is that? Wasn’t there a movie about her?

Born of mixed European and Mexican parentage, Frida Kahlo was a 20th Century painter, born and raised in Mexico And really, she seems like kind of a strange character next to the other woman on these stamps. She isn't Martha Washington, and she certainly isn't Marilyn Monroe, who landed her face on a stamp in 1995. Without the Patriotic angle or the American Icon edge, how did Frida Kahlo get stamped?

The Citizens Stamp Advisory Committee (CSAC), who are the folks responsible for choosing what ends up on our nation’s postage are required to follow a certain set of rules. The 12 criteria were created in the early 1970's and are under a constant process of refinement. The criteria seemed to make sense, but a two items in specific gave me pause:

1. It is a general policy that U.S. postage stamps and stationery primarily will feature American or American-related subjects.
2. Only events, persons, and themes of widespread national appeal and significance will be considered for commemoration.

Not only was Frida not an American, but she didn't even like America or Americans. In some of her letters, now published, she told friends, “I don’t like Gringos much”, in reference to the people of San Francisco. She later depicted America as an industrial wasteland in her paintings. She definitely is does not have "widespread national appeal" considering how many people I spoke to had never even heard of her.

I can understand that perhaps the stamp was selected to honor Kahlo’s art, which is unusual and beautiful. However, it wasn't just her art that was pictured on the stamp, it was her self portrait. Her face. She in no way met American standards of anything, beauty or purity or loyalty: proudly unibrowed, bisexual, practically disabled and communist. Nevertheless, Frida was the first Hispanic woman to be featured on a US postage stamp.

In search of more information on the Kahlo stamp, I visited the National Postal Museum.

Lurking around the gift shop, intent on solving the Frida mystery, I was immediately drawn to a well-lit rotating silver cart on the checkout counter adorned in 1x2inch pins, replicating US Stamps. I searched through it, looking for Frida. I found Judy Garland, in her role as Dorothy Gale, Marian Anderson, representing Black Heritage, and Lucille Ball, the American film actress, selling for $4 each, but no Frida.

I find postcards depicting “Women on Stamps.” No Frida there.
I open a book of postcards called “Women Who Dared”, published by Pomegranate Books in San Francisco and find Frida on the second page looking down and off to the side—a far cry from her own self-depictions, aggressively and honestly addressing her audience. It was an actual photograph of Frida Kahlo—on the back Frida is described as a “Mexican Painter and international intellectual celebrity.” Really? Did she achieve this international intellectual celebrity before or after conservative Americans shunned her political and personal views?

Who can explain the Frida Phenomenon? Certainly not Mary Oldfather, the Volunteer Information Specialist, who was having some sinus trouble when she spoke to me, due to the influx of pollen from museum visitors. When I showed her Frida’s image she responded enthusiastically, through her phlegm, “Frida Kahlo! I saw a PBS special on her.” Hmmm, so it wasn’t Frida’s stampdom Mary knew, it was her PBS fame.

In the National Stamp Collection, I found Frida along side Leonard Bernstein and Enrico Fermi, who were also immortalized on stamps in 2001. In this collection the stamps are arranged inside glass panels which slide out vertically from a wall of numbered panels. The collection is international, approximately 20,000 in this small room in the museum, and only a small section of them US Stamps. A really small section, I notice. I count them, looking foolish among Philatelists admiring the printing and the “grills” of the aging stamps. 108. There are 108 US stamps in this collection of 20,000 international stamps. Obviously someone liked Frida enough to make her #81 . The only other women in the United States panels are Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune. Frida was one of two stamps depicting Hispanic culture.

How did Frida get here?

Cathy Yarosky, a spokesperson for the United States Postal Service, who has had to put up with a lot of public complaints and inquiries (like those that came in 10 days after a stamp honoring Muslims in America was released on Sept 1, 2001), summed up the release of the Kahlo stamp for me rather succinctly: “We select stamps that capture the American experience in all its diversity. At the end of the day, our stamps are always about America.”

But then again, “Cellular Phones” got their own stamp in 2000. So maybe I’m taking the issue of the stamp a little too seriously. Frida Kahlo and her art contributed to the diversity of the American landscape and played an important role in the feminist movement in America in the late 20th Century. Frida’s face on a stamp demonstrates that the US, or at least the USPS, isn’t always focused on mass appeal. As long as Paris Hilton doesn’t get a stamp, I’ll continue to trust the choices of United States Postal Service.